


There Was Something There

by raffinit



Category: Criminal Minds RPF
Genre: F/M, PWP, pure and unadulterated smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing but pure smut because I was drunk when I wrote this and overwhelmed with feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Was Something There

**Author's Note:**

> I am so going to hell in a hand basket.
> 
> ...this would just be another reason to.

God, she’s so _tight_.

She hugs him like a glove; wet, hot, and so painfully tight around him as he holds his place between her legs. His hands grasp at her thighs almost lovingly, stroking the impossibly soft skin as she gasps and whimpers at his probing. He’s not the biggest she’s taken before, but he’s _big_. She should’ve known – it’s not like the monster had tried to hide in his pants. She’s wet as hell and she’s almost embarrassed by it, but more likely grateful as he gives another thrust and half of him splits her apart.

“Fuck!” The gasped word makes him stop; every inch of him is shaking from the sheer self-control he’s exhibiting, holding back from just sliding in and pounding her to oblivion until she’s screaming his name and begging him for more. Her hands push and pinch and shove at his chest, holding him steady, holding him in place above her. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as the pain spreads up along her stomach, and Paget stares up at his darkly hidden face.

He matches her gaze with a taut, worried frown. “Are you okay?” his voice is a low rasp; God it’s so delicious to hear – she’s always loved his voice, and it’s no difference now when he’s halfway in her and most likely dying from the way she’s clenched tight around him.

She nods her head weakly as she leans back, forcing herself to relax against the bed of her trailer – it’s just them here now; she, him, and their clothes lying somewhere on the floor. She’s burning with a blinding ache for him – it’s almost dizzying as he lowers himself slightly onto his hands against her body. Their skin is hot pressed together, damp and blazing heat as his hips flex and another gasp drops from her mouth as he slides another fraction deeper.

“God, Thom,” she moans, as she falls back against the bed, lungs empty and mind blank as he follows her; his mouth lazy and hungry against her pale skin. Her breath puffs against his ear as he sucks against her collarbone, her fingers curl into his short dark hair when she feels the hard pressure there. “You’re going to get us caught,” she whispers to him, and her mouth splits into a languid smile when he pulls back to smirk at her.

“Only if you don’t be quiet,” he rumbles at her, and then he takes her thighs in his hands once more. “Don’t scream.”

With one smooth, deep thrust, he hits bottom inside her.

It takes everything in her not to scream, but Paget has to dig her nails into his skin as he falls skin-to-skin on top of her; nestled deep inside her as she spreads her legs wider and squeaks when it pulls him deeper inside her. “You need to stop doing that!” she hisses thickly, where the scream has lodged in her throat. She slaps at his arm reproachfully, and Thomas is grinning a dimpled grin at her.

He kisses her mouth apologetically as he begins to thrust, pulling out painfully slow and surging in deep; just the way she likes it. “You love it,” he mumbles, and thrusts hard just to hear her gasp again.

“I do,” she sighs against his mouth, and wraps her arms around his neck as she begins to rock her hips to his rhythm.

They rock, slide, and moan; sometimes there’s a laugh or giggle that comes between that, until Thomas finds her fingers with his and twines them together, locking her fingers into his firmly. He pins her hands by her head, fingers tangled in one another as he melds their mouths together too; to swallow her moans and to steal her breath as he feels her clench tighter around him. Her legs wrap tight around his moving hips, her fingers squeeze his in a signal.

She’s close.

He pulls his lips from hers, and she gasps a breath as he breathes into her ear. “Not yet,” he says. He pulls back, arches his back higher so he can look at her face – the beautiful face that’s tempted him for six years; flushed pink and red lips parted in a breathless moan as he drives them closer to their peaks. God, she’s so beautiful. It hurts him in his chest, deep down inside to know that he’s doing this to his wife – his kids.

It hurts him, but by God, he’s a glutton for punishment if this is the pain he has to suffer.

“Fuck, right there,” Paget gasps, and Thom grunts as he quickens his pace, deepens his thrusts until he knows he’s reaching that place inside her that makes that noise he loves to hear come from her mouth.

He swivels his hips, checks the angle…there it is.

It’s a mewl in her throat; a whimper and a moan and a growl altogether as her body clamps down around him – her nails dig in deep and her body goes rigid under him as she trembles and shakes through the shocks.

He keeps his thrusts even and shallow, fucking her through her orgasm because he likes to push her limits and he wants to feel it happen around him. He pries his fingers from hers, letting her grip his arms instead as he slides a hand between them and finds that delicious little nerve between her legs with his callus fingers. He brushes it gently first, delights in the full-bodied jolt it causes before he’s pressing down with earnest.

“Thom!” she squeals, but that’s as far as she can go before her body thrashes in her second orgasm, and Thomas is slamming into her viciously. He’s buried so deep she feels him in her throat; she wouldn’t be surprised (although really she would) if one day he reaches her cervix, but Paget can’t think straight right now as Thomas sinks his teeth into her shoulder and snarls into her skin as he cums in harsh, violent spurts inside her.

It’s like he’s just run a marathon. His heart is pounding in his ears, blood rushing everywhere but his head as they both gasp and sputter loudly for air in the small space. The air is thick now; sex and sweat and the faint traces of her perfume and his aftershave linger in the air, as they lie there twitching in the afterglow.

He’s still twitching inside her when she catches her breath; his own hot breath is thick against her neck and harsh in her ear, but Paget can’t find the energy to care as he curls his fingers into her hair and groans quietly.

His words are muffled against the bed and her hair when he speaks breathlessly. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m on the pill.” Her response is automatic; he always asks after they have an unexpected ‘encounter’. The last thing they both need is another reason for the studio to come hounding on their asses.

His body’s warm against hers, damp and taut with new muscle as he shifts; pulls out of her and leaves a damp mess on her inner thigh. “Right.” The sheets beneath them are damp, so he rolls them over until she’s on his chest and he’s lying on the dry end of her bed. There he holds her, pressed into his chest, her body molded into his, as his fingers tangle into her dark hair, and he threads them through it. 

It's quiet for a long moment; quiet and content.

And then there's a knock on her trailer door; someone from the crew.

"Hey Pag, they want you in there for a meeting!"

They sigh collectively and their eyes meet; sad and reluctant and guilty as she pushes off his chest. Briefly though she lets her lips touch his - kissing the guilt and the shame away. 

"It'll be okay," she promises him; his arm is wrapped tight around her waist still - he's terrified of letting her go.

Thom unwinds his grip reluctantly, and watches sadly as she hurries to get back into her pants. They can't keep Erica waiting; she's not exactly on good terms with Paget as it is.

By the end of the day, Emily Prentiss shows up less often on the show, and so does Paget. They stop what they do because they can't anymore; it doesn't feel right - it doesn't feel the same.

When she stops coming around the set, they stop altogether.

That's the last time he sees her; pressed under him, inside her, tears running down her face.

Until the next season.


End file.
